It was not his lovely companion's warm greeting that had sparked his curiosity but rather her apology, and for a brief moment, lips spliced at her soft chuckle to assure her that she had nothing to apologize to him for but in the interest of not offending her let his mouth close with a sharp click of teeth, accepting it as he swallowed his assurance, letting it dissolve from his thoughts. Watching the woman's smile grow when he gave her his given name he felt a small sprint of hope blossom within his chest that Ragnar had not forgotten about him, after all. The son of the deceased wife, the wife he never mentioned ...easily forgettable getting swept up in the horizon of his new wife and his new children, right? But she knew him, by name at least, introducing herself as Thistle Cloud and also as his 'Father's wife'. Týr let out the breath he had been unknowingly holding, feeling a wave of relief surge through and over him as he realized that Ragnar hadn't forgotten about him.
Having his suspicions confirmed he studied Thistle unabashed and freely though his eyes were reserved if to remain gentlemanly in his studies. After all, this was his step mother. For a moment he wasn't sure what to say to her knowing that she was fully aware that he was her step son and wondering if that made her feel bitter towards him. It was awkward, trying to determine where this made them stand with one another. Týr wasn't her son and therefore she had no reason to be kind to him, to want anything to do with him. She could have hated him, everything he was because he was to a past wife of her husband; likewise she wasn't his mother but she was his mother by marriage.
If Týr had any memories of his mother they were long gone though he was fairly sure that Ragnar and Floki had told him she had died giving birth to him (nevermind that his birth mother was very much alive and mourning and searching for him). “So that makes you my step-mother I guess,” Týr finally offered wondering if it was as awkward for her as it was for him; despite that his awkwardness was borne of his own lack of knowledge of them or what kind of step-mother she would be if she was even interested in being his step mother of any semblance. He didn't really need her, he was capable of taking care of himself but he couldn't help but think that it would be nice to have something he had never had before (or at least has no recollection of having): a mother. “You're very pretty,” Týr offered her as a compliment, wondering how long he would have to suffer his own trepidation and according awkwardness. “I've been meaning to visit but I wasn't sure if ...I mean he has you and new children probably and I didn't want to intrude.” Týr spoke, clearing his throat once, taking his crystalline blue eyes off of her to look around their surroundings, wishing he could turn off the feeling that he'd been replaced and that he had no place in Ragnar's new life.
a crime so old as the sky and bone